Ikuyo ‹幾世›
by Kunshi Sekijou
Summary: One shot. Hand towels, cherry blossoms, tea ceremonies... Yanagi ponders the ironies of life through everyday things. Pre-slash. Inui & Yanagi friendship.


**DISCLAIMER: No, I don't own _Prince of Tennis._ **

**A/N: **Inspired by Monkey Majik's "Sakura" and the match between Inui and Yanagi (before the Nationals).

**Warnings: **Lurking pairings. Some symbolism. Please disregard actual timeline.

**NOTES: **Yanagi's POV in the third person. And please keep in mind that no matter how reasonable and unbiased his view can be, what he perceives is still somewhat subjective.

* * *

><p><strong>Ikuyo<strong>

**~幾世~**

They were to be matched against Seigaku in the Kantou Regional Finals this year.

Renji calmly accepted this fact as he would usually accept everything else.

That was until he saw that all too familiar name on the list of rival players.

Inui Sadaharu. And a column over, on the same row, was his own name. Yanagi Renji.

The line that divided their names was unfamiliar to him. Their names always appeared together in the same box in his memory. That was when they played tennis together as doubles partners. But then, they separated and entered different junior high schools. Now, when they play tennis together again, they can only play as rivals.

Inui Sadaharu was his rival now. That name, along with the new identity that came with it, became a tide that swept up against his chest. It was not powerful enough to break down his cool exterior, but it disturbed the order and shook everything up internally like a tsunami crashing through an ancient village. His heart struggled to remain stationary through the violent flow.

While he was still conscious, apathetic Reason was the iron wall that kept the tsunami at bay.

Yet, "Inui Sadaharu" was a wave that ran deeper than the conscious Reason controlled. "Inui Sadaharu" flooded his sub-conscious and permeated his dreams at night. In his dreams, his old doubles partner always reminded him of the length of their separation from the night he ran home without saying goodbye till the day they would meet again on court: _"It's been four years, two months, and fifteen days, Renji."_

"_It has been quite a while, Sadaharu."_ He heard himself add.

They called each other by their given names in his dreams like they always did in the past. Renji always believed that two people were closer when they addressed each other by their given names.

And what was closer than having the other in his dreams? What was closer than having the other appear directly before him in his dreams? While asleep and dreaming, he could fool himself to believe that the other was really as close as he appeared to be rather than being miles and miles away, because the dreamland was not Reason's territory.

So he went on dreaming similar dreams night after night, until the day of the tournament.

…

Kantou Regional Tournament Finals.

Rikkai versus Seigaku.

Singles three.

They stood before each other on court.

The first declaration he made to Sadaharu after he greeted him was, "I will not go easy on you just because we go way back."

To his words, Sadaharu replied with a knowing smirk, "Of course, Renji. I did not collect all the data I could collect on you for four years, two months, and fifteen days just for you to go easy on me."

Renji smiled.

They departed to opposite ends of the tennis court.

Their match began.

He had to win this match. It was not only for Rikkai. It was not only for Seiichi. It was also for his doubles partner of the past; it was for their past.

If he won this match, then Sadaharu would still be chasing him. And he can be deluded to believe that they were still bonded somehow, regardless of the physical distance between them. They would still have a connection, their minds would still live in the past no matter how far their bodies age.

He was going to play hard to keep that bond. Each forehand stroke, each backhand stroke, each step he takes, every point he gains will be for the past, their past.

That was, until he heard the other's teammates fully cheer him on, as if calling him to the future, to where their shared past will be severed and the other will move on without him.

The spirit in their voices made Renji hesitate. Just slightly, though. Reason still dominated him.

He held on still.

Each forehand stroke, each backhand stroke, each step he takes, every point he gains will be for the past, their past.

His deep concentration on the match earned him five games to four. He was in the lead.

Just one more game, he thought. Just one more game.

Then, they will be back in the past, where the voices of Sadaharu's teammates cannot reach him to call him to the future.

"Sorry, Sadaharu. Your data will not work against me."

Yet, shock ambushed him when he heard the other announce, "If my data will not work against you, then I will discard all my data."

The other's unpredicted words made Renji hesitate. This time, it was more than just slightly.

Did that mean Sadaharu was to sever their bond? Did that mean Sadaharu was to forsaken his past?

Renji stared hard at his former doubles partner, his old friend, on the other side of the court. His hand trembled unnoticeably as he prepared the ball for his service.

Did that mean Sadaharu was to forsaken his friend as well?

His suspicions led his attention on the match astray. He could not concentrate.

As a result, he lost a game.

Renji looked at their tied scores on the blackboard. He held on still, stubbornly.

They battled each other till the tie breaker.

He held on still.

That was when one voice shattered all of his determination.

The voice of one of Sadaharu's kouhai, the one nicknamed "The Viper."

When he had previously examined the relationship between Sadaharu and that particular kouhai through the data he collected, he found that their closeness went beyond that of the usual senior and junior.

At first, he could not believe it. He would not believe it.

But, time after time, his data proved to be flawless.

Data, after all, never lies.

…

Sadaharu won.

Even with their scores so close, it was not out of his expectations for their match to end with such a result.

Sadaharu said that they each had a 50 percent chance at winning.

His calculations would have been correct, if they were merely apathetic robots.

Renji knew Sadaharu had not taken into account the extrinsic and intrinsic factors that affected the data greatly when he made this calculation.

According to his own calculations, he had an 81 percent chance at winning the other. That, of course, was excluding influential factors. When the other factors were taken into consideration, the entire probability at victory for each of them became a multiplication.

Sadaharu's chance at victory doubled when his teammates (or rather, that particular kouhai) began cheering for him. On the other hand, his own chance at victory was reduced to zero when he diverted his concentration in saving the game and saving their past all at the same time. When tennis became too personal, it was much like bringing a zero into a multiplication problem. It did not matter how great his chance at winning was, any great number, even infinity, multiplied by zero, was still zero.

Such was the irony of life.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

…

They shook hands after the match.

Through their contact, Renji was reminded of their bond of friendship.

Sadaharu peered at him for a few moments before asking, "Why did you leave, Renji?"

He felt his own grip tighten upon the other's hand as if he wanted to hold onto their friendship a bit longer. "I wanted to give you room to grow, so that one day we can finally face each other to see who is the stronger of the two."

Sadaharu nodded as if he comprehended his reasoning. Yet, Renji was uncertain if the other understood his ambivalence as he fought to hold onto their friendship and fought for the other's growth.

They let go.

And Renji wondered if that meant they were silently agreeing to let go of their past most definitely. He wondered if that meant they would be real enemies the next time they meet.

They return to their respective teams at each side.

As he walked, he saw the particular kouhai with the green bandana offer the other a hand towel.

When an unfamiliar pain swept across his chest, he questioned whether it was from that familiar tsunami called "Inui Sadaharu" or merely from losing for the first time against an opponent from another school.

It must be the latter.

Yes, it must be, because the former was just too unreasonable.

…

Genichirou waited for him upon his arrival off the court.

His hands were tightly fisted at his sides. Renji knew what was coming.

Unlike the kouhai who offered Sadaharu a hand towel for his victory, Genichirou would only deliver punishment for his loss.

If he could bear the internal pain of defeat, then what was external pain? How much would Genichirou's punishment hurt?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

He stopped before his vice captain.

"I'm ready, Genichirou." He lifted his face, but he refused to look into his eyes, the eyes that looked only to victory and to their dear friend who was currently battling his illness in the hospital. Instead, he closed his eyes entirely, forsaking the hint of dark amber hinted through the slits.

He waited for the impact. He waited for the sting.

He heard the contact of two surfaces. But he felt no pain. Or had the internal pain already numbed his external sensations?

Cautiously, he reopened his eyes.

Genichirou's fist hit the face of a racquet. Akaya's racquet.

"Don't worry, fukubuchou. I'll finish this in five minutes max."

Renji could not see his kouhai's face when he spoke the confident words to Genichirou. Neither could he see Genichirou's face clearly. Both Akaya and his racquet blocked his view.

Unlike Sadaharu's kouhai, what Akaya offered was not a hand towel. But Renji was still grateful for his attempt at helping him and helping the team adjust to the unforeseen circumstance.

…

Rikkai lost to Seigaku.

But that was okay.

Seiichi's surgery was a great success. He would be well again in time for the National Tournament.

It was all that mattered to the team.

It was all that mattered to Renji.

It was all that mattered to Genichirou.

The team departed together from the hospital after they walked a semi-conscious Seiichi back to his floor unit once he got discharged from the PACU.

While he usually walked beside Genichirou in the front of the group, he chose to trail behind them this time.

He had to deal with his shame of losing alone, quietly. He had to re-evaluate his performance and learn from his mistakes. Yet, it seemed the Reason that usually controlled the intricate wheels of his mind, big and small, spinning logic and calculations, was dysfunctional. That all the intricate wheels in his head spun out were the fragments of memory of his past, the past he held onto so tightly during their match today.

When his chest ached again, he knew that tsunami called "Inui Sadaharu" invaded his mind and conquered Reason.

And that same voice that reminded him a few nights ago just how long they have been apart, reminded him now of forgotten possibilities.

"_Let's remain partners forever!"_

That was possible if he had not left on that day.

He turned his gaze to the distance. The weather now, the setting sun in the orange sky, matched the one from his past. It was almost as if he returned to that day.

If this was so, could he still fulfill that possibility, the possibility for them to remain doubles partners and friends forever?

The cherry blossom trees he encountered at the side of the road provided him with the answer he sought for. They swayed softly in the spring breeze, tiny buds only beginning to open.

The sooner they blossomed, the sooner they would met their end.

And how soon their partnership ended once Sadaharu spoke those words

"_Let's remain partners forever!"_

Such was the irony of life.

"Ne, Yanagi-senpai." A voice whispering close to his ear interrupted his thoughts. He realized it was his kouhai's voice.

"Yes, Akaya." He wondered why the other was whispering.

"Let's go see the cherry blossoms once buchou gets better."

He hypothesized that Akaya probably did not want to be caught thinking and talking about something other than tennis by Genichirou after the team's defeat. Akaya must have thought he was merely admiring the budding cherry blossoms that complimented the scenery.

He smiled, secretly amused.

Such was the innocence of youth.

Such was the innocence that he, no doubt, had already lost, for he now depended upon the nostalgia of memory to remind him of his own innocence.

He answered, submitting to the other's assumptions.

"Of course, Akaya."

When Akaya's expression brightened upon his agreement, Renji could not help but wonder just how long the other could continue smiling the way he did now.

…

After that match, he was still the same Yanagi Renji who usually accepted everything calmly.

He accepted Seiichi's return calmly.

He accepted Genichirou's intense training regimen for their upcoming National's Tournament.

He accepted Akaya's continuous invitation to walk home together after club activities.

He was still the same Yanagi Renji who usually accepted everything calmly, because Reason dominated his conscious.

Yet, "Inui Sadaharu" was a wave that ran deeper than his conscious. "Inui Sadaharu" flooded his sub-conscious and permeated his dreams at night, before that fateful match and after it, too.

And "Inui Sadaharu" flooded through the slits of his closed eyes and ran rivulets down the plains of his cheeks when he awoke in the middle of the night.

That was the final sign that indicated to him that it would be most wise to move on, to leave behind all that "Inui Sadaharu" had disheveled to change and begin anew.

Yet, his mind never found a satisfying reason to persuade him to move on, move on from the friendship that defined a major part of his life four years, two months, and fifteen days ago.

…

It was a few weeks before the National Tournament that Akaya fulfilled their agreement. They picked a day in mid-spring, clear and warm and ideal for picnicking. All the young flower buds from a month ago reached to their fullest potential; they were at the height of their bloom.

The two of them were the only people from their team who met at the appointed destination.

When Renji questioned Akaya about the whereabouts of the rest of their teammates, the other answered simply, "They were all too busy."

As much as he suspected otherwise, he felt that Akaya would appreciate it if he did not openly analyze the truth behind his claim. Nevertheless, he still tucked away the little piece of information secretly in a noticeable corner in the storage warehouse of his mind.

There was a significant amount of people at the park. Vendors scattered along the area only added to the crowd.

Eventually, after a brief search, they found an opened spot on the grass to lay down a clean blanket. He had to fold it down two times for it to be an appropriate size for two; he would have used the entire blanket if their entire team came.

Then he thought about how they would finish all the food he had brought along. Perhaps he would return some amount to the refrigerator later and give it away to his teammates tomorrow at school. Deciding, he began preparing only the amount of food that could be eaten for the day.

"Yanagi-senpai."

He stopped to look at the other beside him.

"Yes, Akaya."

"I just saw something that I have to get. I'll be right back!" The other ran off before Renji could remind him not to eat too much junk food before lunch.

He smiled to himself, somewhat amused.

Such was the innocence of youth.

The other still did not returned after he had carefully laid out their lunch. Renji decided to walk about close by as he waited for the other's return.

Because he preferred peace and solitude, his senses instinctively led him to a single, lone cherry blossom tree that stood isolated from the rest.

The tree served to remind him of his solitude. He was the only one here. He reached for the branch that seemed to be reaching out to him.

Suddenly, the grass shuffled behind him, signifying the arrival of new company. His hand retreated back to his side, and he turned to greet the newcomer who he knew was not Akaya.

The footsteps were too heavy and steady to fit Akaya's height and weight.

"Sadaharu."

The other nodded at him.

"So, you are here too, Renji."

Silence dominated the air as Sadaharu joined him at his side and they both focused their attention up at the blossoms above them.

Sadaharu began again a moment later. "I never forgot that day. I never forgot about you."

Renji directed his gaze at him, focusing his entire attention on what the other was to say.

"But, one will not grow if he continues to hold onto the past. That is how you lost, Renji." Sadaharu looked at him now, too, even though Renji cannot see the other's eyes through those thick glasses of his. "You have prevented your own growth."

To his words, Renji replied slowly, "…Perhaps you are right, Sadaharu."

Sadaharu's lips lifted to a knowing smile. "Data never lies."

Renji returned that smile. Then he grew serious again. There was something he needed to know. Only Sadaharu's answer will calm the tsunami that held his name within him. Only Sadaharu's answer shall restore him fully to the Yanagi Renji after their departure four years, two months, and fifteen days ago, the Yanagi Renji who can truly accept everything calmly.

"Tell me this much, Sadaharu… Are you going to discard your past from now on?"

"You know that is not possible, Renji."

"Oh?" He pushed further.

"To discard my past is to deny a part of myself."

"Then you will hold onto the past?" His heart pounded to the unfamiliar rhythm of hope inside his chest.

"No." Sadaharu paused, striving to find the right words to most effectively expressive himself verbally. "I will simply let it be a part of me, but I will keep it at a distance. And the next time we meet again, I will let it come closer."

"Sadaharu…"

"Renji, we have to move on. We still have so much room for possibilities and growth."

The fast rhythm of hope slowed to steady tranquility in his chest. Renji was silent.

"But one day, we will meet again," his hand reached out to touch the rough bark of the tree trunk, "perhaps under another tree like this one."

They must go their separate ways now. He understood, because he could see that all-too-familiar figure in the distance, even when that figure was without his green bandana.

Sadaharu needed to go now, because someone was waiting for him.

"Aa, we will meet again. Until then…"

"Farewell." Sadaharu finished for him with a smile. Then he turned and left, showing him his back much like he did a few weeks ago at their match. Renji watched until he reunited with his kouhai in the distance.

"Yanagi-senpai!"

A voice called out to him, preventing his mind from advancing further in thought analysis. He turned to the source of the voice.

"Akaya."

It was amazing how the other always seemed to interrupt his thoughts at the right time.

As the other drew closer, he saw the worry projected clearly in the emeralds of his eyes.

"I thought you left without me, Yanagi-senpai." His appearance was much like one of an abandoned child.

Renji smiled gently.

"Of course not, Akaya." To further reassure the other, a hand lifted to stroke at the already messy strands of hair.

Akaya's face colored unnaturally when he pulled back.

"Come on, Yanagi-senpai. Let's go have lunch, I'm starving!" He looked away as he gripped his wrist.

"Aa." He allowed himself to be led away.

…

They left the park in the afternoon, a few hours after consuming their lunch. When he offered to walk his kouhai home, he rejected his offer and insisted on visiting his home instead.

He agreed.

His home was his sacred sanctuary. He did not bring just anyone to his home. He hoped to form a lasting relationship with those he brought home. That was why he brought them home with him. That was why he called them by their given names.

Genichirou. Seiichi. …Sadaharu.

And now...Akaya.

As he got ready to open the front door, he noticed the other's unease. The look on his face was one of forced calm. It was as if Genichirou had just caught him slacking off during club activities.

Amusement lifted his lips.

"You do not need to be so serious, Akaya. There is no one home."

Hearing this, Akaya exhaled deeply as if expelling worry from his entire system. Renji led him through the maze of his Japanese styled house until they arrived at the kitchen overlooking the back garden.

"You looked like you could get lost back there." He observed the open curiosity and excitement in the other's eyes when peered from corner to corner.

"Aa… Heh heh heh." Akaya only laughed sheepishly.

After Renji properly stored the remnants of their meal in the refrigerator, he turned to see Akaya's hand digging into his pocket.

He pulled out a small crumbled bag and offered it to him.

"Let me see you make this please, Yanagi-senpai."

He received the item from the other. The bag opened to reveal a black can that easily fit in the palm of his hand.

A can of matcha.

Akaya must have known his hobby of conducting tea ceremonies. Perhaps the other was more observant than what he accredited him for.

Renji smiled, gentleness soothing his delicate features.

"Will you wait for me in the tea room, Akaya?"

…

Renji changed into a casual blue kimono before meeting his kouhai.

When he slid the door to the tea room open, he saw Akaya sit before the utensils stiffly.

He was amused at how the entire air of the house made the other feel like he had to be just as formal. Though, he visibly saw the other relax upon his arrival.

"Yanagi-senpai." Akaya greeted him, then observed his attire. "Is this going to be serious?"

He sat down, kneeling.

"Do not worry, Akaya. It is just a habit." He offered a smile of reassurance, and proceeded to boil water and clean his utensils.

He felt Akaya's gaze on him, following his every movement.

Finally, after the preliminary cleaning was accomplished, Renji moved to open the new can of matcha.

It was called "Ikuyo no Mukashi," "The Legend of Many Generations."

As he prepared to whisk the powder-like tea leaves in hot water, he reflected upon the significance of its name. The tea ceremony, after all, was a practice that paralleled meditation.

"Ikuyo." "Many generations."

Yet, "Ikuyo" could also pose as a question. "Ikuyo?" "How many generations?"

His contemplations progressed further, the thoughts stirring up in his mind as the tea leaves stirred in with the water.

How many generations, how long, will it be till the next time they meet? How long till he finds another partner and friend like Sadaharu?

The finished product yielded no answer to him.

Such was the irony of life.

Where was the answer to his question when he needed it most?

He shook off the pessimistic thought. Instead, he turned the bowl three times while it rested upon the palm of his hand and offered it to his attentive kouhai.

Akaya accepted the bowl gratefully and lifted it to his lips, brows knitted slightly in concentration.

"It's…good…" He managed after a single sip. However, Renji could tell Akaya was not used to its bitter-sweetness.

He appreciated the other's courtesy nevertheless and received the bowl back in his hands to take a few sips of his own.

When the warm liquid washed down his throat, leaving only its taste upon his tongue, he decided that it was indeed a bit bitter.

Yet, Ikuyo's bitterness reminded him of the bitterness one felt when he could not prevent nor delay the departures of those important to him.

When two people's time together was up, it was up. There was only hope for them to meet again one day.

Till then, he questioned endlessly.

When will they meet again? When will he find another like the other?

Thinking, a single droplet of emotion quietly descended the corner of his eye.

"Yanagi-senpai!" The other scurried into action. "Did you burn your tongue? Was it too bitter for you?"

A hand on his cheek reminded him of the present, reminded him of who was waiting for him in the present.

He smiled at the other. Because smiling was the only way he knew how to repay kindness such as this.

"No, Akaya. It was wonderful." He reached out to stroke his hair. "Thank you."

That single tear was perhaps the last of the advancing tsunami called "Inui Sadaharu." The rest of the wave retreated back into the ocean of his mind.

'_Sadaharu, we will meet again._

'_Till then, I will move on._

'_Till then… I will miss you.'_

* * *

><p><strong>END NOTES:<strong>

**"Ikuyo"** can mean "many generations" in Japanese. But if you use it to pose a question, it would be "how many generation?" or "how long?"

**"Ikuyo no Mukashi"** is the name of Ippodo's high grade matcha.

**"Matcha"** is not a form of tea powder. It does not melt when it is mixed with hot water. It is dried tea leaves grounded by stone mill. Therefore, when you whisk it with hot water, the grounded up tea leaves are suspended in water, making it a deep, vivid emerald color.

**"PACU"** is short for Post Anesthesia Care Unit.

**"Hanami"** is the term used for "flower-seeing." You would find A LOT of people in the parks of Japan during sakura (cherry blossoms) season having picnics and such.

**"Turning the tea bowl three times before handing it to someone..."** As courtesy, the tea bowl is turned so that the best side is shown to the guest.


End file.
